


Alone Together

by elxetera



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Fluff, Good Omens Lockdown, Have fun lads, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots, M/M, The Good Place (TV) References, The Good Place (TV) Spoilers, This is trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elxetera/pseuds/elxetera
Summary: Crowley wakes up and wants nothing more than to spend time with Aziraphale again. It turns out Aziraphale feels the same way.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 75





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! This is my fic for the #AwakeTheSnake hashtag going around on Twitter. The story is based on [this post](https://neil-gaiman.tumblr.com/post/630786844754362368/so-now-that-its-october-is-crowley-awake-yet) from Neil Gaiman. I decided to put a little spin on the ending of it! 
> 
> Beta-d by [@starrysheen](https://twitter.com/starrysheen)

A horrendous beeping noise jostles Crowley from a deep sleep. He groans quietly and curls up further beneath the covers. If he just thought the bloody thing away, maybe it would stop. It didn’t. 

Crowley flips onto his back and runs a hand across his face. A part of him does not want to even touch his phone. The news was bound to be utter chaos, no matter if it was good or bad, and his demonic intuition told him that things have probably just gotten even worse. He figured that he probably had no business getting out of bed until 2025. You would think that people had made some improvements, but Crowley knew that was not the case. That was simply how the humans were: always finding ways to dig themselves into an even deeper hole than the one they were already in. It was just in their nature. Crowley didn’t even think Hastur could pull something like this off. No, this was all the human’s work. 

The hellish beeping persisted, and Crowley’s arm flew over to the phone, tapping and then smacking at the screen, desperately trying to make the damn thing stop. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and Crowley felt his shoulders slump as the blaring continued. 

“Shut. _Up!”_ he growled, and the noise ceased. 

Crowley eyed the phone on the ground. It waited patiently to be picked up, but he ignored it. It is October. It is cold, and his bed was warm, and he really doesn’t feel like moving. 

_I should just sleep until December,_ he thinks. _They have_ got _to have their shit together by December._ But then of course, that’s what he thought in May. And in July. How much longer would it be? If he was being honest, he did miss social interaction. Especially with Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale. 

“Wonder how he’s doing,” Crowley murmurs. He stretches his arm out, reaching for the mobile. He grabs at it, but every time his fingers touch the thing, it moves another inch out of his reach. He groans. 

“Siri, call Aziraphale,” he says tiredly after a moment. The phone beeps and a robotic voice answers. " _Calling Aziraphale_.” 

There is barely any time to listen to the phone ring before it is picked up. 

“Crowley?” comes an anxious but excited voice. 

“Hey, Angel.”  
  
“You’re awake!”  
  
“Mnh, not really.” Crowley grumbles. “How are you? What’s happened?”  
  
“Oh—where are you? You sound far away.”  
  
“Well, I _am_ in Mayfair, Angel. That is far away.”  
  
The joke goes over Aziraphale’s head. “It’s only eight minutes away,” he says seriously. 

Crowley rolls his eyes. There are only a select few people who understand his sarcasm. Aziraphale evidently isn’t one of them. “My phone is also on the floor and I don’t feel like getting it,” Crowley then explains.

“Why is it down there?” asked Aziraphale, sounding genuinely puzzled.

 _Because it deserved to be knocked over after it woke me up,_ Crowley thinks before switching the subject. 

“Fill me in. Is it all over _yet_?”  
  
“Ah, well, not exactly,” Aziraphale says, and the tone of his voice confirms Crowley’s suspicions. A tone that says, " _Y_ _ou might as well stay in bed until 2030 because we’re not going anywhere soon.”_

“And we haven’t entered phase two of the lockdown situation yet—” 

“Phase _two?_ ” 

“Phase two,” Aziraphale repeats grimly. 

Crowley makes a frustrated sound, something between a squeak and a groan. “Wonderful.”  
  
“Then of course there’s the Rule of Six.”  
  
“Right,” the demon says, hoping Aziraphale picks up on the fact that Crowley has been asleep for the past five months and hasn’t been conscious to keep up with the rules and regulations. 

“...no gatherings over six people…” Aziraphale continues, “and there mustn’t be more than six people at a single table, and you couldn’t even have a reading session with six people!” he added, sounded quite exasperated.  
  
“Yeah.” _Since when did Aziraphale have reading sessions with more than six people? Since when did Aziraphale have reading sessions in general?_ _  
_ _  
_ “And there must not be any household mixing.”  
“What?”  
  
“People from one household must not gather with another household. Although I am fairly sure that is only in certain parts of the country. I could be mistaken. I know Manchester is one of the places where that rule is enforced.”  
  
_Of course,_ thinks Crowley, _it is Manchester, after all._

“But it hasn’t been enforced in London?” the demon asks hopefully. 

Aziraphale hesitates. “I don’t know. But I still think it is safe to stay indoors for now. And always wear a mask in public.”Crowley smirks slightly at that last comment as he pictures Aziraphale walking down the street wearing a ridiculous tartan mask. He wants to see that, just to make some snarky comment. He misses those playful arguments. 

“I know I asked you a while ago but...do y’think it would be okay for us to be together now?” 

“Oh, Crowley, I’m—I’m not sure that is a good idea.”  
  
Crowley feels his heart sink more than it already has. “Angel, we’re supernatural beings. We can’t _get_ sick,” he points out, hoping Aziraphale will realize that and relent. 

“Yes, but...we must set an example for—” 

“For the humans. Yes, I know,” Crowley says with a defeated sigh. “But no one would have to know,” he then tries. 

Aziraphale is quiet for a moment on the phone. 

“But...the rules…” he then says.  
  
“Aziraphale, you gave a flaming-bloody-sword to Adam and Eve thousands of years ago. That was against the rules. You hung around me, the _enemy,_ for all eternity. That was _definitely_ not allowed. Please, angel. I miss you,” Crowley says, hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate. 

Aziraphale sighs. “This will all be over soon, I’m sure. I miss you too, my dear,” he says, and he sounds like he means it. 

_There is really no point in getting up, then,_ Crowley thinks. He sighs. “Yeah, soon. See you, Angel,” he says, sliding out of bed to grab his mobile and click the “End Call” button. 

Crowley flops back against the pillows. This has gotten severely out of hand. If Hell was still keeping tabs on him, he probably would have gotten a reward by now, despite the fact that he didn’t cause any of this. But he never did, anyways. The humans were—are—just so demonic themselves that they find a way to make things worse than Hell could. And that _way_ was keeping him from seeing Aziraphale for who knows how long. 

Crowley closes his eyes. He had heard the saying _“sleep on it_ ” used somewhere before, and decided that maybe there was truth to it. He’d call Aziraphale tomorrow. Perhaps the angel would change his mind, soon enough… 

A loud buzzing noise rouses Crowley again. He originally thinks it is his phone, and he strongly considers throwing the thing into the Thames. He opens his eyes a crack and notices that the phone is silent, despite the fact that the obnoxious buzzing sound still is sounding from somewhere down the hall. He has enough time to register the fact that it’s the buzzer and someone is waiting to be let in at this ungodly hour before he realizes who it is.  
  
Crowley practically sprints from his room to the buzzer and presses the button harder than is probably necessary. 

“Angel!” he exclaims, trying his best to sound as casual as possible. 

“Hello!” Aziraphale chirps. 

“What—what are you doing here?”  
  
“Well, I thought about what you said, and I agree,” Aziraphale says. 

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”  
  
“We can’t get sick. No one has to know. Now, it is raining and I don’t want my mask to get wet.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, of course. Here,” Crowley says, and unlocks the door for the angel. 

A moment later, a knock sounds at the door. Crowley snaps his fingers, miracling himself to look as though he has actually been giving his corporation personal attention over the last few months. 

“Hello,” he says, opening it. “See? Sometimes I _do_ make good points.”  
  
Aziraphale chuckles slightly. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head. I'm the nice one. I don't normally do things like this, and this still is not technically allowed.”

“Shh, don’t ruin it,” Crowley says jokingly. 

“How are you, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks, and his voice sounds so soft and serious and Crowley knows that the angel isn’t just looking to make small talk. 

Crowley smiles gently. “I missed you,” he says. 

Aziraphale’s eyes glimmer with appreciation. “I missed you as well. I’m sorry it took so long. Things have just been so awful.”

Crowley nods. “They have.” 

The pair are quiet for a moment, thinking about the world, and what it has come to. Crowley thought they had averted the apocalypse almost two years ago. Maybe they hadn’t. He, like everyone else, simply wanted this to be over. The least-demonic part of him was just so tired of seeing so many people so sad and helpless all the time. That's partially why he went to sleep in the first place. Everyone looked how he felt, and he didn't like having that constant reminder that the world was complete and utter shit whenever he checked social media or the news. 

“But we are together now,” Aziraphale says in a voice that contrasts his tone from before. “Would you like some tea?”  
  
“You brought tea?” Crowley asks amusedly. Aziraphale knows the demon prefers coffee to tea, and sometimes he teases him about it, telling him he’s not a true Englishman. Crowley just insists that once Aziraphale tries one of those sugary Frappuccinos from Starbucks, there will be no turning back. 

Aziraphale walks into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. Crowley watches him, taking in his entire presence. There was something about having Aziraphale near him that was comforting, and he truly felt happy to have him in his flat.  
  
“Adam Young rang me the other day,” Aziraphale says.

“Haven’t spoken to him in a while,” says Crowley. Adam had recently gotten a phone, just before the lockdown happened earlier in the year. He somehow got Crowley’s number, despite the fact that Crowley was sure he hadn’t given it to him. It’s not that he minded, though. After all, the kid probably still had some bit of Antichrist power left in him, and he could find information on anyone. Either that or he used a phone book ( _but do people still use those?_ Crowley wondered). 

“He was recommending all sorts of television shows. I told him you were the expert on things like that.” Aziraphale continues preparing the tea. 

“I see,” says Crowley.  
  
“Also, what is Netflix?” Aziraphale asks, sounding out both syllables in the word. 

Crowley smirks. “I’ll show you.” 

Aziraphale tells Crowley to go turn on his TV while he finishes making tea. Crowley does, and grabs a blanket on his way. Situating himself on the couch, he clicks the power button on the remote, and the screen comes to life. For a moment, he scrolls through the Netflix catalogue, until he finds what he is looking for. Aziraphale appears a moment later. 

“Tea’s ready, dear.” 

“Uh, yeah, one minute...” Crowley says distractedly. His gaze is fixed intently on the TV.

“What is this?”

“Shh...” Crowley gently says, holding up a finger. “It’s called _The Good Place_. They just came out with a new season on Netflix and I'm trying to get caught up.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale says, walking to the sofa and sitting next to Crowley. He tugs on the blanket lifting it over his legs. 

“But they’re not actually in the Good Place. They’re in the Bad Place, but it’s made to look like the Good Place. Quite smart, what Michael has done, if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Aziraphale asks, looking utterly puzzled.

“Michael. AKA: God.”

“But God is—”

“Yes, I know, the humans got it wrong, but they usually do. Watch with me. They’ll explain.”

Aziraphale harrumphed softly, only being half serious as he relaxed and began to watch the show.

“This isn’t accurate, at all,” he states.

“Of course not,” Crowley says, “none of these shows are. But it’s funny. Just watch it.”

So they do. And after another couple of episodes (and a number of cakes) later, Aziraphale finds himself really enjoying it.

“You remind me of Eleanor,” Aziraphale says around a bite of cookie.

“What? No. I am obviously Tahani,”

“Nope. Definitely Eleanor.”

“Well, you remind me of Chidi, so...”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes jokingly. “At least I don’t resemble Jason,”

“Nah,” Crowley says, turning back to the TV. “That’s Hastur.

At some point Crowley notices that Aziraphale has inched closer to him beneath the blanket. The familiar scent of the angel makes Crowley relax a little. Things are almost... _normal._ He likes it. 

They continue watching—they almost get through an entire season of the show, and are even discussing theories about what may happen next—before Aziraphale whispers softly. “I’m glad I’m here.”  
  
Crowley turns to look at him, and takes his hand. He squeezes it affectionately. "Me too." 

**Author's Note:**

> The Good Place, anyone?? I'm doing what Crowley is doing and re-watching it so I can watch the new season that was released on Netflix! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think of it! Comments are so encouraging, especially right now. You can come find me on tumblr: @ineffable-yikes and Twitter:@elxetera  
> I'm hoping I got the parts about the Rule of Six and Household Mixing right - I'm not from the UK so I had to do some research! 
> 
> Also - I truly hope you all are doing alright. I know that times are tough, right now more than ever, but we will get through this. This isn't permanent. I am always here to talk and interact with you guys if you need me. Stay safe. 
> 
> Xx


End file.
